


Sirens

by brookebond



Series: Inceptiversary 2017 [6]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Mild Angst, Not in a sexy way, Optimistic Ending, Sensory Deprivation, arthur is tortured, but it's not explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 01:59:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11499387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brookebond/pseuds/brookebond
Summary: Arthur has never been more alone in his entire life.





	Sirens

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Darkness square of my Kink/Trope Bingo Card.

The lights cut out, plunging Arthur into darkness.

It had become a regular occurrence over the last however long he’d been stuck there. To start with, Arthur had kept track of time in his head just so he would have something to do. It was an attempt to keep himself grounded as well. If he focused on time, on being aware that things were changing, he was less likely to lose control of himself.

It hadn’t worked.

He couldn’t even remember when he had lost track of time passing but he knew it was long enough for people to assume he was dead. If someone had planned on rescuing him, they would have done it much sooner.

Arthur had lost track of time around the same time he had realised no one was coming for him.

He lay flat on his back, arms spread out to his sides as he soaked in the darkness. It was the calm before the storm. He wasn’t sure how long he had before the sirens started, but they always came after the darkness.

Perhaps he wasn’t as lost as he thought, if he had still figured out the pattern.

The darkness was the only thing that offered Arthur a moment of solitude. No one came into the room to talk to him. No one shoved bread under the door and called it a meal. No one bothered him. He was alone with his thoughts until the sirens blasted through the room, driving every thought from his head.

Everything seemed better in the dark.

Arthur closed his eyes, evening his breath out as he let his thoughts drift to Eames, to what he might be doing out in the world. Maybe he had taken a new job, found a new team to work with, taken a new lover to his bed. His chest ached, an empty hollowness carving itself out inside him. Eames would be happier with someone else. Arthur knew that. But it didn’t stop his heart from crying out, begging for something it was never going to get the chance to call its own.

A piercing wail filled the room.

His whole body clenched, hands flattening over his ears.

It was only the beginning.

The noise drove its way into his brain, niggling into every crevice until it was the only thing that filled his thoughts. The high-pitched, desperate noise that made it feel as though Arthur was tearing in two.

A part of him begged for death so he would never have to suffer through the sound again. But the siren alone wasn’t enough to end Arthur’s plight.

He wasn’t that lucky.

The siren continued, cutting through everything else until it was the only living thing inside his head, until Arthur thought perhaps he was the siren. Perhaps it was all just in his head: the darkness, the piercing wail, the hunger, the ache, the exhaustion.

He screamed into the pitch black room but he couldn’t hear anything above the siren. Arthur only knew he was screaming because he could feel the noise bubbling from inside him and scraping its way out of his throat. At least he could feel something besides the throbbing of the siren in his head.

The siren cut off as abruptly as it had started but Arthur didn’t drop his hands from his ears. The reprieve was always short lived.

The sirens always started again.

Light cut through the room, lighting his eyelids a fleshy red.

It wasn’t the same as when the fluorescents in the room turned on. Something was different.

Arthur opened his eyes, his hands still flattened to his ears, and discovered the source of the light.

The door was open.

A figure dwarfed the light, their silhouette cutting a shadow over Arthur that brought a shiver through him. His captors had never actually entered the room before. His momentary glimmer of hope faded with the realisation that it was all over. The end was staring him in the face and he was never going to see Eames again, was never going to get the chance to confess his feelings. Arthur would have given anything to have that opportunity before him again.

“Arthur,” a voice called as soft hands grasped his own, pulling them away from his head.

He struggled, fighting to get free. The door was open. It was his chance to escape.

“Arthur,” the voice repeated, a familiarity to it nagging at him.

“Eames,” he rasped, eyes landing on the features he knew so well but had forgotten the details of.

“You’re safe, now,” Eames murmured, pulling Arthur into a rough hug. “You’re safe.


End file.
